


bloody valentine

by TeenageCriminalMastermind



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood and Torture, Dark Reylo, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Serial Killer Kylo Ren, Serial Killers, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Violence against women, and doesn't support or glorify violence against women, else it's on sight, if you came here for soft ben turn back and run, if you thirst for this version of him you have a problem, like he's literally a serial killer guys, my beta requires this, republished under a different title cause I'm annoying, serial killer fuckers stay the fuck away, the author is a murderino, the author is an MGK stan, there is derogatory talk against women by the killer, this is gonna be dark people, weebs STAY THE FUCK AWAY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenageCriminalMastermind/pseuds/TeenageCriminalMastermind
Summary: The state of Chandrila has a killer on the loose. The harrowing murders have been targeting sex workers and young women, and the killer seems to be showing no signs of stopping. Rey Kenobi, a member of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, has been assigned one of the chief investigators on the case and makes a public statement about not giving up till she catches him. Unfortunately, Kylo Ren is not a man who shies away from a challenge. It’s only a matter of time before she herself is next.
Relationships: Kaydel Ko Connix/Rose Tico, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey & Rose Tico, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

_**College towns are always the most fun to hunt in.** _

Especially when they’re small. Small college towns are the ones where you can stoke real terror, and the gaggles of students walking with their slow yet hurried pace haven’t stopped giving him a thrill. It’s quite funny that the cops haven’t caught up to him - he’s under three different names in the Most Wanted of numerous state police and the FBI themselves. They always suspect someone older, someone, who fits the bog-standard creep, with those Dahmer glasses and basement-dweller zit filled skin. Not someone like him - tall, dark lustrous hair and a smile that can fool seasoned detectives. Lookers like Kylo Ren are rarely killers, after all, and he is a certified lady killer in more ways than one. 

Right now, he’s nursing a drink at a dive bar in downtown Hanna City. It’s one of Chandrila’s bigger cities, and its huge population makes it an ideal hunting ground. There are quite a few drunk sorority girls in the bar that night, laughing loudly as they all too transparently flirt with the bartender in hopes of getting a few free drinks. They’re all blondes - _what a pity,_ he thinks. Not his flavor, especially not that box dye blonde that every girl named Mackenzie sports. Scruffy dirty blondes are all right with him but it’s the brunettes that he really likes. It’s a cliche, really - going after brunettes, _so Ted Bundy._ But what can he do? They’re the ones with the most range; most of them tend to fight back and they’re very few who beg from the start (he gets done with those ones quickly: begging’s no fun if there’s not a fight before). 

There’s a girl sitting a couple of stools down from him - dirty brown, slightly grumpy looking, drunk as hell for sure. He decides to close his tab with this drink and wait in his car a few blocks down; judging by the way she’s angrily tapping at her dark phone, it looks like the thing is dead, and she will need to go down the street to hail a cab. He will roll up, casually, offering a ride and laying on his charm thick, offer her some “water” to sober up, and then deal with her as he sees fit. It’s a very good thing he has the most generic black car in existence - the Silencer is virtually indiscernible from the ten thousand same cars that drive down the streets of Hanna City. Right as rain, she walks down the street and rounds the corner on Cedar and Garren, raising a hand to shield herself from the street lights that shine square on her face. “Hello,” he asks her, his low voice a soothing croon. They’re out of sight of any surveillance so he’s in the clear. She leans into his open window, using the door to steady herself. _Even easier to get in control._

“Hey, my phone’s dead and I need a ride if that’s okay?” she slurs. Beaming, he opens the door, and she falls into the seat. He carefully settles her in and adjusts the seatbelt, retrieving the water bottle in his glove compartment. “Looks like you need some sobering up,” he offers her the beverage with a sleeve of peanut butter crackers, which she gratefully accepts and starts wolfing down. They make idle chatter, and she lays her head against the seat rest, heavy eyes closing. Twenty seconds pass as he hums the chorus of Mr. Brightside, and her breathing has begun to slow and even out. _Right about in three, two, one._ Out like a light. 

It’s another twenty minutes to the outskirts of the city, and the heavy forests that bleed into the suburb he’s passing by are the ideal dumping ground. They’re not the kind of forest people tromp through all the time, but there will always be some keen walkers who will take the trail and eventually discover the body. It’s also off-season for travelers, so it’s not like someone is going to drive past while he’s taking his time. They’re past city and township limits now, and he pulls up to the side of the forest. Kylo finds out that his latest catch is quite light - _how nice,_ he muses - and he hoists her over a shoulder as he hefts the bag of tools on the other. Once she’s properly restrained and bound to the tree, he pulls out the torch and shines it straight in her eyes to wake her up, backhanding her twice for good measure. That wakes her up well, and it takes her a while to adjust to the abject darkness around her, her confusion turning to horror as she realizes the situation she is in. The fear in her eyes sends a thrill down his spine, a thousand-watt smile curling upon his lips. 

“Good evening - I thought you weren’t going to wake up.” 

She starts to struggle against her restraints, making him chuckle. “Oh sweetheart, you ain't getting out of these. I’m really good with knots,” he sing-songs, waving the torch around, “but it’s cute to see you try.” She huffs and wriggles a little more, hurling expletive after expletive at him as she struggles in vain to get out of those perfectly tied nautical knots that he’s practiced several hundreds of times. It’s always the fun part of the deed, taunting and torturing them before their fate dawns on them. The most fun will remain them begging for their lives, and he reminisces over his last few victims as he lazily draws the knife over her bare arms, carving rivulets of blood as he makes his way. She screams whenever he gets lost in a reverie, his knife absently digging further and further into her flesh. “Tsk tsk, princess. It’s bad manners to interrupt someone.” There’s no one to hear her scream but him, and he will savor every moment of it.

“You know,” he begins as the knife shifts closer to the center of her chest, “I’m known to steal hearts on the regular. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me adding yours to the collection, would you?” She screams louder and he winces as the sound hits one of his eardrums with full force. “Ooh, you’ve got a set of lungs on you, princess. Wonder if I should take those too.” She begins the usual set of pleas that follow, begging him to take whatever he wants - money, sex, even a finger or two - but leaves her to live, and she won’t tell. _I doubt that._ Too many killers before him have granted those requests to their victims, ultimately causing their downfall. He’s committed to not let his spree stop until he wants to. 

Her screams still aren’t enough to excite him, so Kylo decides to skip phase 2 of taking what he wants and chooses to head straight for phase three. The death is rather swift and painless - he’s done torturing for the night - and the slit on her throat gushes blood like an angry fountain, painting her body in dark swathes of red. As the final light goes out of her eyes, he takes the knife to the center of her chest and makes a clean incision, big enough for his hand to fit in. He pulls his gloves off and his fingers find purchase in her body cavity, scrambling a bit until he finds her still-beating heart. Kylo slowly pulls it away, severing each artery and vein that holds the organ there, his fingers coated in the same warm, sticky blood that covers the front of the girl, each gurgling breath fainter as he severs her heart from her body. He’s always prepared for this though, with his waterproof bomber jacket that can be cleaned with a simple wet wipe.

_Not like they’ll have any DNA to work off._

He is rather careful about things like that - always wearing gloves and when he decides to have a little more fun, always wearing a condom. He’s spontaneous, not stupid. Besides, by the time they find her body, any possible fingerprints left in that deluge of red will be long gone, rotten away with the blood itself. There’s a small cooler in his bag, and he carefully places the heart amongst the ice before he puts the bag in the trunk and cleans himself off thoroughly with rubbing alcohol wipes, setting the wipes on fire and watching them burn to ashes before he leaves. With all that evidence destroyed, he’s free to go, waving a jaunty goodbye to the body still secured to the tree. Two hours into his drive, a cop does stop him, but it’s only a routine check and he’s sent on his way with a cordial smile. He’ll toy with that heart all he wants tomorrow, but he first needs to shower, sleep, and finish his day at work. 

After all, all play and no work makes Kylo Ren a dull boy.

* * *

**_Rey’s woken up by that god awful ringtone._ **

The new spate of killings had already kept her up, and the insomnia is only an obstacle when it comes to getting a good night’s sleep. Given that she’s a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, her work hours are bound to be whack, but these killings have only made it worse. “Kenobi.” 

“We have another body,” says Poe, her boss. Fuck. “Where?” she asks as she quickly throws on a jacket and starts shimmying into her work pants. “Outskirts of Hanna City, the Kloss forests. CSU’s already on the scene and so are two Chandrila PD officers. Finn and I are on our way.” 

“Be there in twenty.” She cuts the call, quickly lacing her shoes in and flinging her bag on her shoulder as she practically flies out the door. _Maybe Dex’s will be open?_ She desperately needs a coffee. The sky is still dark, the first rays of dawn obscured by the heavy cloud cover in this part of the country. It looks like it’s about to rain, which is only bad for the crime scene techs. Given how early it is in the morning, Rey gets to their location two minutes earlier than expected, Finn and Poe’s car pulling up as well. “Hi, guys.” Rose Tico, one of the crime scene techs, greets them with a wave and a grimace, while flashes from Kaydel’s - the other crime scene tech - camera go off loudly in the background. The five have been friends since high school and by some strange force have ended up working on this case together. “It’s just as bad as the others,” Kay tells them as she moves aside, giving Rey a full view of the scene. 

If this had been her first crime scene, she would have thrown up the nonexistent contents of her body and vowed to transfer to an admin department. The woman’s body is bound to the tree by a series of ropes and knots, and there is the vacant look of horror frozen on her face. Rey’s eyes travel down to the slit across her throat, the stark white of her near-frozen body contrasting with the blood-rust that marks the spot. She moves closer, gloves on, and starts examining the wound - it’s cleanly done, probably by a pretty sharp knife, like the others. She can hear Finn and Poe murmuring and taking notes in the back as she examines the other scars on her arms; the sharpness of the wounds is consistent with the one on her throat, and she moves down to the one very obvious, very gaping one on her chest. It’s in the shape of an upside-down sword, like the others, and the marks have been made in singular motions. Rey does not have to peer further to know what just happened there. “The heart’s gonna be missing, isn’t it,” she says to her colleagues.

“Given how consistent the signs are with the other crime scenes, I’m saying yeah, it will be,” Finn replies. They know so far that the pattern of cuts on the chest is this person’s calling card, and based on the profile they have constructed, it’s probably a male in his twenties or thirties and is well built, with most of his victims being college-aged women. However, given the distance between all the crimes, this man is certainly not in college. “There’s a ton of bars we’re going to be interviewing at,” Poe tells them as they make their way back to their cars, nodding at Rose and Kaydel as they do, the latter handing them coffees. “Didn’t give it to you earlier as I didn’t need you all puking all over that crime scene,” she quips. Rey takes a deep whiff of the coffee but there’s something else that she smells as she consumes the beverage. _It’s cologne._ A men’s cologne, at that. “Hey,” she calls across the scene, some heads perking up, “anyone here wearing cologne?” They shake their heads, and she files that away mentally as a possible identifier. 

“What kind of cologne, peanut?” Finn asks as they linger at their cars, drinking their beverages. “It’s a heavy musky smell that I smelled as I was sniffing my coffee,” she explains, “like the kind a man would wear. It was too faint for it to be recent, which is why I asked. Can colognes even linger that long?” At that, Poe nods. “Some fragrances can linger up to 24 hours,” he tells her, “so we know what our unsub may smell like now.” It’s admittedly a very thin lead but hey, Richard Ramirez’s horrific breath helped identify him. Drinks done, the trio makes their way back to the central office back in Hanna City where a gaggle of reporters has gathered on the footsteps, Director Holdo looking stoic as she fends the paps off with a series of carefully rehearsed answers. “Director, is it true that another body has been found?” _Motherfucker_ , how does word travel this fast? Poe looks at the two of them, probably wondering who at the scene ratted them out to the press and how to get the reporters off their back, who seem to have joined the dots. “Agents, are you coming from the scene of the crime? Did the anonymous tip help you find it earlier than before?” _Tip?_ A chilly realization runs down Rey’s back as she connects dots of her own, Poe smoothly covering for her off-guard looking face.

“The tip called in was an immense help,” he says, “and while the individual has not identified themselves clearly for safety purposes, we thank them for their eagle eye and their help in catching this notorious fiend. We are working with Chandrila PD and Hanna City detectives to ensure that the victims are brought to justice.” With that out, Holdo dismisses the rest of the reporters, their press secretary doing the rest of the work as the four of them make their way into the building. “Good thinking, Dameron,” Holdo comments as they file into the elevator, “I do need to speak to the three of you before you head back to the BAU floor.” Once they’re in the confines of their office, Holdo takes her seat and picks up the freshly-prepared cup of coffee sitting on her table. “So, what did the three of you find?” 

“Director, this crime scene too bears similarities to all scenes connected to the unsub and while we are waiting for CSU to get back to us with the autopsy results, we’re confident that this vic too is missing her heart, with the same inverted sword-like incision on her chest,” Finn says. “Agent Kenobi picked up a smell at the crime scene that fits with a men’s cologne and did not belong to anyone on the scene. We are adding that to the profile of the unsub but will not be making it public, understandably.” She leans back and nods, letting out a sigh as she massages her temples. “Thank you, Storm. You three know well the pressure we are facing from the public to catch this killer. He’s already hit this state twice and also killed five others in Ajan Kloss and four in Takodana. And he hasn’t slipped up once.” Believe her, they know. This killer is the worst thing to happen to the Republic since James Snoke’s spree, which ended only thirty years ago. But unlike Snoke, this guy is determined to be meticulous. And unlike Snoke, he is openly taunting them now. 

“He has to have called in the tip,” Rey speaks up. “It was only us and two Chandrila PD detectives with CSU on the scene. If we were informed of where the body was this early after the murder but just late enough that any evidence set in that blood would have rotted away, only someone who knew that fact would have called at just that time. Besides, it’s too early for anyone to be on a trek through that trail.”

“Director, I feel like that’s a fair probability,” Finn says, backing her up. Bless the man, he always has her back. Holdo dismisses them after a committal hum, and they take the stairs as they make their way down to the BAU floor. “Armitage Hux must be on her ass for her to complain about public pressure,” Poe says. As chief of police for Chandrila PD, Hux is known to be a hard taskmaster and to also make big claims in public from time to time, which doesn’t necessarily bode well for them this time, if ever. “Hey guys, CSU dropped off crime scene photos,” Mitaka tells them as they make their way to their seats, and right now, all Rey wants to do is go back to her apartment and sleep until she feels alive again. Given the number of photos on each of their desks, that isn’t even remotely an option, so she opts to slump in her chair and close her eyes, trying to push those images in her head aside to form any useful thoughts. 

She doesn’t need those CSU photos to remind her of the horror on the woman’s face. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ben Solo is a consummate professional. 

He never joins meetings late, always turns in work on time, and even occasionally goes the extra mile for his clients. Keeping that in mind, his boss rarely ever gets on his case, mostly just leaving him to his own devices. Which is perfect, because Kylo needs the flexibility; a 9-to-5 just couldn’t be feasible. As of now, Ben is working on a project set for him by Resistance.org, a grassroots campaigning non-profit that his mother happens to be the chairman and founder of. Leia Organa, after having spent her youth as an anti-war activist, turned back to the family business of politics while having the actual business taken care of by her brother. 

Her run for Chancellor was ruined by her opponents, so she turned to different political and public service pursuits, which culminated in Resistance. They want a complete overhaul of their current digital image, and Ben is busy working on the website as of now, the logo finished last week. His fingers flit over the keyboard as he codes in a style guide for the website to refer to later, his laptop alerting him of an incoming call. 

“Benji,” his mother says affectionately, “I hope you haven’t been working yourself to the bone.” She’s mostly like this - loving and slightly overbearing - but he cannot deny that some of Kylos’ proclivities come from the resentment he harboured towards her as a child. Ben Solo loves his mama, but Kylo? Not so much. “No, Mom,” he replies, ceasing his typing to get a drink of coffee and head to the kitchen. His mother rambles on about his father’s latest automobile restoration while he scours the fridge for something to eat, nothing quite catching his fancy. His latest toy sits snugly in its cooler box, and Ben is waiting to finish the basic layout of the website today so he can finally play without abandon. “Are you stocked up on groceries or do I need to visit?” her voice comes from his headphones, sending a little blip of alarm in his head. _That won’t do, not for today or tomorrow._ “I’m well stocked up, don’t worry. Besides, you do plenty of feeding when I come over.” 

“Your nonna would haunt me from the grave if I did otherwise,” Leia chuckles, and he faintly hears his dad yell hi. “Your father has been on my case about having you come home soon. He misses you, you know,” her voice softens. He misses Han Solo too; they’ve had their ups and downs, but his dad was more there for him than his mom and for that reason, the man holds a slightly different yet equally high position in his life. “Tell him I’ll be home for Thanksgiving,” he tells his mother and after a few more pleasantries and idle chatter, she ends the call. Ben fixes himself two bagel sandwiches and gets back to his workspace, churning out the layout of the website by dinnertime. _Perfect._ He will have fun, and then he will order a good dinner from the nearby Chinese place. 

Snapping on a pair of hospital gloves, Kylo carefully lifts the heart out of the cooler, the organ chilly to the touch yet immaculately preserved. He doesn’t know where to start with the cuts - lengthwise or the other way round? _Let’s take a good look at what I think should be wonderfully clean arteries._ Lengthwise cross-section it is. Just like he surmised, the girl’s arteries are clean and largely devoid of fat or any such clogging, and he runs a gloved finger along the plump, supple flesh. Just holding it brings him back to the scene, that night which he filled with the adrenaline of that woman’s fear, the screams that broke that monotonous silence. He made that night memorable - not just for him, but for her as well. He could easily bet his earnings that she had not had an experience like that ever, and killing her was honestly a favour to her - after all, why not go out on top? That was the most significant night of her life, and he made sure it ended that way. The rush of blood below means that it’s time for his fun to move to the bathroom - _wooden floors are hard to clean bodily fluids off of, plus they get sticky._

He emerges from the bathroom flushed and spent - these moments are okay substitutes, but nothing tops the thrill of the kill and going through the steps each time. He knows the FBI is building a profile on him (a pretty shitty one, given that they haven’t caught him yet), but what these people do not understand is that each kill is unique, the circumstances all once in a lifetime. None of those can be “replicated”, as they so crudely put it, but there is a common theme that connects them all, yes. He knows the rest of the world will consider him to be fucked for thinking this way, but there is a strange beauty in what he does. It’s art, in all its brutal and animalistic glory, bringing to life what Goya wouldn’t dare to put in paint. 

Few killers have ever looked at it this way, most of them just satisfying their wanton needs (which he can’t complain about much, he’s somewhat in the same boat too). The heart has been dealt with as seen fit, and he relaxes on the couch, switching on the TV while ordering the usual from Lucky’s Asian Kitchen. His food arrives in time for him to settle down and watch the news, and most channels are currently running his latest murder. It’s quite satisfying to see the flummoxed faces of those FBI agents, particularly Dameron’s. He has known the latter since childhood and always found him to be a tad overzealous, sanctimonious and annoying. It figures he would end up in law enforcement. But that’s not what gets his attention. 

It’s the brunette. 

She looks pissed and borderline mad, burning with the righteous fury some of these agents have. The reporters are on the edge of their seats at a press conference featuring her, Dameron and another man Ben identifies as Finn, Poe’s boyfriend. They’re pestering them with questions about leads that they may have, the two men responding simply with a ‘no comment’. It looks like he started watching at the end of the affair as the press director is lowering the mics with her hand when the brunette stands up, and the three buns hairstyle immediately catches his eye. 

“Listen,” she turns up her mic, looking at the gaggle of reporters. Rey Kenobi, the sign in front of her reads. “We are going to find this person. He’s nothing but a misogynistic sadist who can only find joy in hurting others, and we will ensure that he is put behind bars for the rest of his pathetic life. He will pay for cutting short the lives of innocent women and for breathing their stolen air.” With that, she turns around and heads out the door, followed by the two agents and leaving the press director to deal with a now-piqued crowd of journalists.

Now _that_ is a statement. 

Even though she doesn’t know him yet, he feels an undeniable connection to this firecracker of a lady. She has that passion, that grit that he hasn’t seen in anyone - kindred darkness, a thirst for revenge. Ben knows they’re two halves of a whole, a match fated in the stars. Rey is his soulmate, and it is only fair he replies to her. 

A letter would be rather romantic, wouldn’t it?

* * *

It’s been a busy day at the office so far. 

They’re collating information about the cases, trying to find parallels from this crime scene to previous ones. So far, they’ve got quite some stuff to work off. For starters, there’s the body - all have been tied to trees with nautical knots, suggesting that their unsub briefly served in the Navy/Marines or at the least, attended military school. Plus, the cuts on the body show someone skilled with a knife - they’re clean but not surgical, and the forensic pathologist reports state that the weapon used most likely is a large knife like a chef’s knife, not a scalpel. _That rules out medical professionals._

“Hey Finn?” she calls across the floor, her colleague not at his desk. Despite being the same age as her Finn joined the FBI a few years before her, having gone straight from ROTC to the agency. She had gotten her degree in forensic psych before she came here, realizing that this was a much better fit than being a therapist. “What’s up?” he walks over, and Rey points her thumb at the board. “Do you think the cologne is a lead worth putting up there?” she asks him, getting a nod in response. “Better than you forget it,” he tells her, returning to the pile of files on his desk. Even though the three of them have been taken off all other cases for this one, the sheer number of prior victims that they’re looking at makes it quite the task. “What time did the autopsy say the latest vic passed away at?” he asks, and she flips through the pages scattered on her table to find the correct one, putting it back neatly in its file. “At 12:48 AM is their estimate.” 

“Given that we found her in the Kloss forests at around 6 AM, it’s safe to say that livor mortis had long set in and the blood had congealed and become useless in that time.” 

“Especially in this weather,” she posits. “It’s warm as hell and that definitely would have sped it up.” 

At that moment, the elevator doors open to reveal Poe with three steaming coffees from Dex’s and Rey groans appreciatively in response, gratefully taking the beverage. At this point, she’s running solely on caffeine and spite. “What have we got, kids?” Poe asks them. Finn briefs them on their latest progress and they go back to looking over their case files, Rey poring over today’s murder. “I went down to see Hux; Chandrila PD is still working on IDing the victim,” Poe tells them. “So he’s continuing his thing of taking all of their ID’able artefacts with him,” Finn tacks onto the board. 

“The way she was dressed she looked like she was out for a drink or a casual dinner, so I don’t think this victim of ours is a sex worker,” Rey adds, scribbling it onto a flashcard and putting it on the board. “Of all the previous victims, how many of them have turned out to be sex workers?” 

“Five,” Finn responds, leaning back in his chair. “The first three, then victims seven and eight.” 

“I hate to say it this way, but do you think he chooses them cause they’re easy pickings?” she grimaces as she says that, putting air quotes around the last two words. Poe and Finn solemnly nod - as horrible as it sounds, serial killers, choose sex workers either due to some inner disdain for them or because they are high-risk, easy-access victims. “So maybe he picks them on days that he’s itching to kill, but cannot or does not have access to his other type of victims, that is college students.” 

“Victims one, three, and eight were found at rest stops/motels so that definitely supports the theory,” Poe chimes in, putting up another flashcard on the board. They’re making progress, but his cool off period has also shortened. If they don’t act quickly, there will be more bodies in a much shorter period. “He also has to have constant access to a vehicle. Either he owns one - which is more likely - or he rents a new one every time, which would be the smarter thing to do on his part but could also leave a paper trail that leads back to him.” 

“Hey guys,” it’s Mitaka, walking towards their small group. He was a transfer from Chandrila PD and has been rather useful, even though he is scared to death of Hux. “So we got camera footage pulled from over the city, and Chandrila PD sent the relevant stuff. We should have the identity of the victim by tonight. Hux is also volunteering two detectives for legwork. Speaking of the footage,” he pulls out his laptop, “she was last seen in downtown Hanna City, leaving this bar. No witnesses remember seeing her leave with anyone though, said she left alone. Then she just disappears off the corner of Garren and Cedar.” 

“So the unsub intercepted her there,” Finn offers.

“Yeah, which means he’s gotta know the area,” Mitaka continues, “or at the very least, he scoped the area out. I’ve requested the PD to send over traffic cam footage to see if any cars were loitering around the area in the past week or so, casing the place.” Lunchtime passes with her going over traffic cam footage with Mitaka, sandwich in one hand and the mouse in the other as she plays and replays certain clips to make sure. They cut out a decent number of people, narrowing down their suspect pool to five cars that they’ve seen often (maybe they should ask Chandrila PD to ID the cars and then they can go talk to the potential suspects?), and she steps back from her table for a moment to rub her eyes and give her legs a good stretch. Finn and Poe return not long after, Poe informing them of a press conference that they have to field today (“Holdo’s orders”), and Rey mentally tries to formulate the number of different ways she can say “no comment” when the press asks a question that might point at sensitive information. She hates this man, whoever he is that is leading them on his horrible wild goose chase. 

The press conference is rather mundane and the reporters must have been briefed beforehand to not ask questions that are too probative. Their press director Tallie Lintra is a brusque, efficient woman, fielding questions that don’t have to do with the investigation and more with bureaucracy. Apparently, she had given the press too much credit beforehand because the Hanna City Herald is asking questions that will blow their case wide open. “Could you tell us about the condition the bodies were found in?” Finn takes that one, offering a vague explanation of the condition the victim was found in but omitting the detail about the missing heart and the other marks on the victim’s arms. They then ask them about the identifying characteristics of the killer, which Rey fields. “He’s in his late 20s to early 30s, probably well built and not a college student. We don’t have a hit on what the vehicle looks like, but it would be an inconspicuous everyday car.” 

“That’s it?” a reporter quips. She really wants to flip the fucker off, but Tallie, sensing her ire, takes that one, smoothly telling them that the FBI does not want to reveal particulars for the investigation’s sake. If it satisfied that reporter, she doesn’t know, nor does she care. She gets why they want to know more, but they should also know why it is colossally stupid to reveal those details to the public and the latter should outweigh their curiosity. They go through a couple more questions (which they avoid), and by now Tallie has decided that she’s had enough of this nonsense and starts lowering their mics, telling the press that the event is over, much to their frustration. Rey gets it, she really does. So she decides to give them a statement to work with that should dominate the airwaves and divert their attention from the real details. 

“Listen,” she turns up her mic, looking at the gaggle of reporters; they’re all looking at her now. “We are going to find this person. He’s nothing but a misogynistic sadist who can only find joy in hurting others, and we will ensure that he is put behind bars for the rest of his pathetic life.” The room is dead silent, and they’re all hanging on every word she says, and she means them all. This man is nothing but a sad, disgusting sadist whose life will be nothing a shitty factoid after he’s caught; Rey takes that anger and channels it into her statement. “He will pay for cutting short the lives of innocent women and for breathing their stolen air.” Done with all this, she just gets up and leaves, heading straight for the loo. 

The bathroom is empty, giving her some time to think. Will Holdo appreciate this move by her or will she be severely reprimanded? It couldn’t have been too good, an agent almost blowing up on the press with her self-righteous rage. She sits there a few more minutes to let the anger pass, then washes her face and decides to head straight to her desk and drink some cool water. Fuck it, she’s clocking out early and getting some sleep for once. She grabs her stuff, lets Finn and Poe know that she’ll be back tomorrow at the usual and to call whenever if she’s needed ASAP, the two men giving her an understanding nod. “I am sure Holdo isn’t mad,” Finn says with a reassuring look. “Besides,” he grins, “They can’t fire one of their best agents when they need her most.” 

“Don’t worry about the traffic footage; I’ll contact Chandrila PD and run point on it,” Mitaka tells her and she gives the short man a grateful smile. 

“Thanks, guys - you’re truly the best.” 

“You better bring your A-game tomorrow, Kenobi,” Poe says with a serious look, breaking into a grin just when she begins to worry. “Don’t worry, I know you will. Just go home and get some actual sleep, okay?” And she intends to. Once home, she kicks off her shoes, places an order at her favourite Chinese place, and heads straight for the shower. Food acquired and a comfortable position taken on the couch, she opens her Lucky’s Asian takeout box with a look only reserved for their food and Maz’s Cantina’s Mexican specials. The news is too depressing to watch anyway, so Rey puts on the Great British Bake Off and slurps down her noodles with zero shame. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day takes over and she heads off to bed, the soft bed and comforter a welcome change from her office chair. Her cat D.O. (her legal name is Dottie Olive, but Rey just calls her Dottie) jumps onto the bed and curls up next to her side, lovingly bunting her head against Rey’s hand. 

The next day Rey goes into work, ready, refreshed, and well-fed. Poe, Finn, and Mitaka offer her hellos. The day goes by monotonously with no new leads and when she gets back on Wednesday, upon the usual sheaf of documents, is an envelope. There’s no return address and Rey pulls out a pair of gloves just in case it’s from the killer and they may be able to lift prints. With that done, she opens it, the crisp paper tearing loudly as she takes out a letter.

In exquisite penmanship are written the following words.

_Hello, Rey._

_It was good to see you last night - your statement at the press conference immediately caught my eye. Quite the firecracker, aren’t you? It makes me happy to see that there’s still some spark at the FBI. Oh, and your commitment to the cause is just admirable. Watching you all riled up did things to me I wouldn’t want to repeat here on paper. Maybe I’ll tell you when we meet? Yes, that would be better._

_But sweetheart, you have one thing wrong._

_You can’t stop me. I won’t stop until I want to. You all have been trying for quite some time and what has that yielded? Not much, if anything. I’m a very careful man, you see. Prudent. Careful. I know that your strong, supple fingers are probably covered in gloves as you read this, thinking you can get my prints off the paper. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, really. (Don’t get me wrong, it delights me.) Is your cute little button nose all scrunched up in frustration? Are you glaring, eyebrows furrowed? I want to kiss those wrinkles away, darling. You’re too young for them._

_You will see me, for sure, my love. But you can’t stop me. In fact, I’m going to add your pretty little heart to my collection. If mine belongs to you, it’s only fair yours belongs to me, right?_

_Your soulmate,_ _  
__Kylo_

Well, fuck. 

**Author's Note:**

> read and comment everyone! any criticism is welcome criticism :D


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